At a dinner at Lady Georgiana Fullerton’s my sister and I met Aubrey de Vere, who delighted Alice with his conversation. The general company, however, seem to have chiefly amused themselves with the long and, on the whole, silly controversy which was appearing in The Times regarding the sequence of the horse’s steps as he walks. It began by my horse’s walk in “The Roll Call” having been criticised by those who held to the old conventional idea. How many hours I had moved alongside horses to see for myself exactly how a horse puts his feet down in the walk! I had told many people to go down on all fours themselves and walk, noting the sequence with their own hands and knees, which was sure to be correct instinctively. At this same dinner Lady Lothian told me she had followed my advice, and the idea of that sedate grande dame, with grey hair combed under a white lace cap, pacing round her room on all fours I thought delightful. Since those days I have been vindicated by the snap-shot.
I find many Diary pages chiefly devoted to preparations for “Quatre Bras” and the doing of several pen-and-ink reminiscences of what I had seen at Woolwich and Aldershot, and exhibited at the “Dudley.” Some were bought by the picture dealer Gambart, and some by Agnew. One of those pen-and-inks was the “Halt!”—those Scots Greys I only half saw through the dust storm at Aldershot pulling up in the midst of a tremendous charge, very close to us. Gambart had come to my studio to see if he could get anything, and when I told him of this “Halt!” which I had just sent to the “Dudley,” he there and then wrote me a cheque for it, without seeing it. When he went there to claim it, behold! it had already been sold, before the opening. He was very angry, and threatened law against the “Dudley” for what he called “skimming” the show before the public got a chance. But the possessor was, like Mr. Galloway, a Maanchester maan, and these are very firm on what they call “our rights.” It was no use. I had to make Gambart a compensation drawing. This introduces Mr. Whitehead, for whom I was to paint “Balaclava.” He had the “Halt!” tight.
On Corpus Christi Day that year Alice and I, having received our invitations from the Bishop of Salford, of happy pilgrimage memory, to join in the services and procession in honour of the Blessed Sacrament at the Missionary College, Mill Hill, we went thither that glorious midsummer day. At page 127 of the Diary I have put down certain sentiments about the practice of the Catholic faith in England, and I express a longing to see the Host carried through English fields. I little thought in one year to see my hope realised; yet so it was at Mill Hill. After vespers in the little church, the procession was formed, and I shall long remember the choristers, in their purple cassocks, passing along a field of golden buttercups and the white and gold banners at the head of the procession floating out against a typical English sky as their bearers passed over a little hillock which commands a lovely view of the rich landscape. The bishop bore the Host, and six favoured men held the canopy. Franciscan nuns in the procession sang the hymns.
The early days of that July had their pleasant festivities, such as a dinner, with Alice, at Lady Londonderry’s (she who was our mother’s godmother on the occasion of her reception into the Catholic Church) and the Academy soirée, where Mrs. Tait invited me and Dr. Pollard to a large garden party at Lambeth Palace. There I note: “The Royalties were in full force, the Waleses, as I have heard the Prince and Princess called, and many others. It was amusing and very pleasant in the gardens, though provokingly windy. I had a curiously uncomfortable and oppressed feeling, though, in that headquarters of the—what shall I call it?—Opposition? The Archbishop and Mrs. Archbishop, particularly Mrs., rather appalled me. But dear Dr. Pollard, that stout Protestant, must have been very gratified.”
On July 4th Colonel Browne, C.B., R.E., who took the keenest interest in my “Quatre Bras,” and did all in his power to help me with the military part of it, had a day at Chatham for me. He, Mrs. B. and daughters called for me in the morning, and we set forth for Chatham, where some 300 men of the Royal Engineers were awaiting us on the “Lines.” Colonel Browne had ordered them beforehand, and had them in full dress, with knapsacks, as I desired.
They first formed the old-fashioned four-deep square for me, and not only that, but the beautiful parade dressing was broken and accidenté by my directions, so as to have a little more the appearance of the real thing. They fired in sections, too, as I wished, but, unfortunately, the wind was so strong that the smoke was whisked away in a twinkling, and what I chiefly wished to study was unobtainable, i.e., masses of men seen through smoke. After they had fired away all their ammunition, the whole body of men were drawn up in line, and, the rear rank having been distanced from the front rank, I, attended by Colonel Browne and a sergeant, walked down them both, slowly, picking out here and there a man I thought would do for a “Quatre Bras” model (beardless), and the sergeant took down the name of each man as I pointed him out very unobtrusively, Colonel Browne promising to have these men up at Brompton, quartered there for the time I wanted them. So I write: “I shall not want for soldierly faces, what with those sappers and the Scots Fusilier Guards, of whom I am sure I can have the pick, through Colonel Hepburn’s courtesy. After this interesting ‘choosing a model’ was ended, we all repaired to Colonel Galway’s quarters, where we lunched. After that I went to the guard-room to see the men I had chosen in the morning, so as to write down their personal descriptions in my book. Each man was marched in by the sergeant and stood at attention with every vestige of expression discharged from his countenance whilst I wrote down his personal peculiarities. I had chosen eight out of the 300 in the morning, but only five were brought now by the sergeant, as I had managed to pitch upon three bad characters out of the eight, and these could not be sent me. We spent the rest of the day very pleasantly listening to the band, going over the museum, etc. I ought to see as much of military life as possible, and I must go down to Aldershot as often as I can.
“July 16th.—Mamma and I went to Henley-on-Thames in search of a rye field for my ‘Quatre Bras.’ Eagerly I looked at the harvest fields as we sped to our goal to see how advanced they were. We had a great difficulty in finding any rye at Henley, it having all been cut, except a little patch which we at length discovered by the direction of a farmer. I bought a piece of it, and then immediately trampled it down with the aid of a lot of children. Mamma and I then went to work, but, oh! horror, my oil brushes were missing. I had left them in the chaise, which had returned to Henley. So Mamma went frantically to work with two slimy water-colour brushes to get down tints whilst I drew down forms in pencil. We laughed a good deal and worked on into the darkness, two regular ‘Pre-Raphaelite Brethren,’ to all appearances, bending over a patch of trampled rye.”
I seem to have felt to the utmost the exhilaration produced by the following episode. Let the young Diary speak: “The grand and glorious Lord Mayor’s banquet to the stars of literature and art came off to-day, July 21st, and it was to me such a delightful thing that I felt all the time in a pleasant sort of dream. I was mentioned in two speeches, Lord Houghton’s (‘Monckton Milnes’) and Sir Francis Grant’s, P.R.A. As the President spoke of me, he said his eye rested with pleasure on me at that moment! Papa came with me. Above all the display of civic splendour one felt the dominant spirit of hospitality in that ever-to-me-delightful Mansion House. It was a unique thing because such aristocrats as were there were those of merit and genius. The few lords were only there because they represented literature, being authors. Patti was there. She wished to have a talk with me, and went through little Italian dramatic compliments, like Neilson. Old Cruikshank was a strange-looking old man, a wonder to me as the illustrator of ‘Oliver Twist’ and others of Dickens’s works—a unique genius. He said many nice things about me to Papa. I wished the evening could have lasted a week.”
The next entries are connected with the “Quatre Bras” cartoon: “Dreadful misgivings about a vital point. I have made my front rank men sitting on their heels in the kneeling position. Not so the drill book. After my model went, most luckily came Colonel Browne. Shakes his head at the attitudes. Will telegraph to Chatham about the heel and let me know in the morning.
“July 23rd.—Colonel Browne came, and with him a smart sergeant-major, instructor of musketry. Alas! this man and telegram from Chatham dead against me. Sergeant says the men at Chatham must have been sitting on their heels to rest and steady themselves. He showed me the exact position when at the ‘ready’ to receive cavalry. To my delight I may have him to-morrow as a model, but it is no end of a bore, this wasted time.”